Time Rift -Remus Lupin Love Story-
by Book Of Monsters
Summary: Carson is undeniably abnormal; with a penchant for solitude she easily wards away any person willing, or able, to get close to her... and that's just how she likes it. When, on the day of her eleventh birthday, a psychotic owl delivers a letter from 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' life for Carson takes another strange turn. [Time Travel Fic]
1. Chapter 1

Carson sat alone, as always. Her back rested against the thick trunk of an oak tree as she pulled a fading book from her messenger bag. After scanning the area to ensure that none of her fellow students were stupid enough to follow her into the forest surrounding the school she groped around in her bag for the book she had packed just that morning. She made a small sound of victory as her fingers came in contact with the hard cover. Pulling it from her bag she inspected every inch of it to be sure that the ride to school hadn't damaged the already falling-apart novel. 'Peter Pan' was stamped across the cover in bold, golden letters that glinted in the sunlight and Carson couldn't restrain herself from tracing them with a soft kind of reverence she held only for books. Determining that there was no further damage to her precious book, Carson immediately opened it to the first page and let herself get lost in a world of pirates, fairies, and boys who can fly.

It was hours later when Carson finally looked up from the book. Wind shifted through her white-blonde hair as she glared at the sky; the sun was just dipping below the horizon and school had long since finished. Her parents were going to kill her. They had told her only yesterday that wandering off by herself and disappearing for hours was one of the stupidest habits she had gotten into in her eleven years of life, not to mention the fact that skipping half a school day was detrimental to her education and such. _Honestly_, Carson thought with a scoff, _it's like they think I care. _After having a good eye roll at her parents' naivety she pushed herself off the ground, dusting the lingering dirt off her bony hands and onto her school skirt. She felt a brief stab of annoyance at the ugly beige skirt that was a required piece of her uniform and mentally cursed whoever had thought that having a beige skirt and a white blouse was a brilliant idea for a school uniform (not to mention the fact that the winter jumper was the most horrific shade of sludge-grey she had ever seen and managed to clash with every other piece of clothing she wore).

A quick glance at her wristwatch made her thankful that she lived a mere five minutes away from the school. It was 5:24 and her parents were definitely going to award her tardiness with an early trip to the grave. She could almost hear them reprimanding her already and spent the whole journey home bracing herself for the inevitable flurry of hugs and shouting and groundings and quite possibly tears. Her mother was an emotional woman, a trait that thankfully skipped a generation and left her perfectly capable of keeping herself under control when necessary.

"CARSON RAE BLAIRE, WHERE IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU? YOUR SCHOOL CALLED US ALMOST FOUR HOURS AGO TO TELL US THAT YOU HADNT SHOWN UP FOR YOUR AFTERNOON CLASSES. WE'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK! YOUR FATHER ALMOST CALLED THE POLICE, HEAVEN FORBID!"

The screeching voice of her mother made her flinch as the woman's shrieks assaulted Carson's eardrums. Although she had been prepared for the screeching, emotional hurricane that was her mother she would never quite get used to the way the woman's voice grated her ears and made her head throb. The woman in question was standing in front of Carson in all of her furious glory; her sleet grey eyes narrowed menacingly and her aristocratic features had taken on a harsh edge in her anger. She was quite stunning when she wasn't angry, which wasn't very often as Carson had the nasty habit of causing all kinds of trouble, and she had passed on some of her looks to her daughter. Speaking of whom, was gazing at her mothers attempt at intimidation with a kind of impassiveness that made her mother want to throw her hands up in exasperation. Carson's gaze flickered over to the living room couch and, as she had expected, saw her father lounging back as if his wife wasn't about to murder their only child (and boy did she look ready to kill). As if feeling her gaze her father glanced up and gave her a sly wink, mouth twitching with a poorly suppressed grin. _He's obviously finding this whole debacle amusing; _Carson thought and suppressed her own cheeky grin (quite a fair bit better than her father had, if she did say so herself).

"Sorry mother. I wasn't far from school, honestly... I spent the afternoon in the library. I _was _doing schoolwork though. I swear I had every intention of getting back to class! Time just slipped away from me." Carson lied smoothly. She had practice with this kind of thing, after all, and often needed to lie on the spot to avoid potentially dangerous situations (or at least, dangerous for her; situations such as expulsion, detention, and many various punishments threatened by her mother).

"In the... Oh, honestly Carson..." Her mother's voice grew tired, as if being angry with Carson had sapped all of her strength. Carson relaxed slightly as she realized that her mother had believed her lie completely. She almost felt bad for lying, but if it kept her from being grounded then she would happily do it again.

"I have half a mind to ground you for a month" Her mother stated suddenly. All of the tension returned to Carson and her eyes snapped from where they had been watching her father rake his hands through his soft blond hair (a habit she had inherited from him along with the soft, white-blond hair) to assess whether or not her mother was serious. The cold, calculating look in her mother's eyes was enough to make her own widen and in her panic she decided to employ the help of her father for he was the one who usually got her out of such situations. She beseeched him silently to step in and he rolled his eyes in answer, but she caught the flash of a smirk that signaled his agreement to help.

"Lucille" he started quietly, voice as smooth as velvet "what would that achieve? We have been proved time and time again that not only does our daughter care not for the punishment, but that she rather enjoys it. Being locked away from everyone cannot faze someone who doesn't really like anyone to begin with."

Though the words seemed harsh, they were true. That was one of the many things that Carson loved about her father; he wasn't afraid to tell the truth when so many others shied away from it to avoid causing offence. Although most people tend not to enjoy having the truth handed to them in such a blunt manor, Carson was not most people and often found comfort in the uncompromising honesty. It was in the manipulation of the voice, she mused as her mother and father spoke in hushed whispers about what punishment should befall her. The quiet velvety voice of her father seemed to soften the blow of his harsh words, making them feel kid when in reality they were usually anything but. Carson had tried to teach herself the art of bluntness but couldn't quite manage the silky tone required to soften the blow and often sounded harsh and condescending. She had once tried to practice on a teacher who had spelt her name wrong and had ended up in detention for a week because she had accidentally talked to her as if she were the most daft thing on the planet (which, in retrospect, she probably was as she couldn't even manage to spell 'Carson' correctly).

"Go to bed Carson." Her mother said with a tired sigh, bringing her mind back from its drifting. Carson looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving glint in her eye. Flickering her gaze to her father's she saw him shake his head slightly and shoo her off with a wave of his hand. He knew she had been about to say something that would have only landed her in more trouble, most likely something mocking and to do with her mother's sudden change from furious to tired. Feeling rather put out that her father had ruined her fun she sent him a subtle pout to which he responded with another shooing motion. After years and years of having to deal with Carson's attraction of trouble they had learnt to read each other extraordinarily well; her father noticed the fleeting expressions meant for only him while her mother raged and she noticed his subtle movements of his head, or his eyes, or his hands that spoke volumes to her. They had developed their own secret language, full of minuscule smiles and faintly inclined heads. Carson turned on her heels and fled towards the stairs that led up to the second floor and ended right outside her bedroom door.

"Harold... What are we going to do with that girl?" Carson paused, halfway up the stairs, after hearing her mother's question. She had obviously not been meant to hear it if the hushed way her mother spoke was anything to go by. A sigh carried through the air, one she recognized as her fathers, and it was so full of exasperation that she almost flinched.

"Lucille, she's only ten years old for heaven's sake. While neither you nor I can say that at that age we would disappear for hours on end just to avoid school, we did get into a fair amount of trouble. It's unfair of us to punish our daughter if she has committed but a minor offence. Although, I do believe that we might need to have a chat with her about the importance of education. At this rate it'll be a miracle if she can make it through Year Five, not matter how much she acts as if she is in the possession of superior intelligence."

After hearing her father's words Carson actually did flinch. A heavy feeling of shame settled in her and, though she still held firm to her belief that her intelligence was far superior to that of her peers, she couldn't help but mentally chastise herself. She was the one at fault for making her father sound so worried, so frustrated. She was the one who was the constant cause of her mothers outbursts; her mother who looked so very lovely when she wasn't frowning, who had raised her with a gentle smile and the same tender love Carson now held only for her books. And she regretted very deeply being the cause of both of those things but, like how her mother couldn't help but be emotional and her father couldn't resist the lash of the blunt truth, she was powerless to stop the way her magnetism for trouble of any and all kinds effected those around her. She didn't go out seeking trouble; trouble just managed to find her. Like a moth to a flame.

With a heavy sigh and tears prickling at the corners of her eyes Carson walked the rest of the way to her room deep in thought. She hadn't realized that she had been worrying her lip until she bit down too hard, making her hiss quietly in pain. After washing herself up and changing into a pair of soft grey pajamas Carson was called back down stairs for her evening meal. They ate in silence that verged on awkward but was still comfortable enough to not prompt any of them into talking to get rid of the quiet tension in the air. Being the first to finish Carson excused herself and hurried upstairs, her head clouded with thoughts of sleep and warm blankets. She all but fell into her bed, finally letting her eyelids droop shut as her world faded into nothing. She dreamt of flying with a boy who refused to grow up while her parents sat downstairs and spoke in length about her future.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** The following stories are based on situations and characters from the Harry Potter books which are created and owned by J. K. Rowling, and various other publishers, including, but not limited to Warner Bros., Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoat Books. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

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><p>Carson had not expected to be awoken on her eleventh birthday in such a traumatizing way. It had started with a faint tapping on her windowpane. She had been snuggled down in her overstuffed doona, a slight smile gracing her pale pink lips as she dreamt of paintings that danced and laughed in their frames as she watched and danced with them. It was one of the best dreams she had ever had in her now-eleven years of life and so when the tapping first began she chose to ignore it, basking in the lingering warmth of her strange dream. The tapping slowly grew louder and more insistent until something shattered. Carson sat bolt upright at the sound, sleep finally wearing off enough for her to be worried about the unfamiliar sound. Her thoughts quickly flashed to murderers and thieves as she struggled to untangle herself from her blanket-cocoon; which ended in her rolling right off the bed with a painful thump against the ground. The blankets once again obscured her vision as she kicked out so as to injure her attacker. She made contact with something at the same time as she ripped the blankets off her head. A loud screech rang through the room making her scream in shock. Surely no <em>humans <em>made that noise?

She saw a flash of black heading towards her right before her vision was once again obscured by something. There was another screech as what felt like feathers smacked her around the head, promoting Carson to scream yet again and stumble to her feat in an attempt to escape what she was now sure was some kind of bird. Her hands few to her face as she battered the bird away and had her efforts rewarded with a hard peck from the bird. She was certain that it had drawn blood with its beak but was thankful for the fact that, although a bird was beating her up, it had not used it talons to claw her eyes out (or anything equally gory). She spoke too soon, however, as she saw a flash of dangerously sharp claw before she was flinching backwards and protecting her face as well as she could with her bony hands. She was expecting pain, blood, and shredded skin and certainly not the heavy thump of paper hitting the top of her head. With a flash of confusion she slowly lowered her hands, taking in the fact that the bird had landed on her bed. Suspicion laced through her as she watched it with a glare. Carson almost felt sorry for the creature, though, as she saw its ruffled feathers and realized that had she not kicked the poor thing it probably wouldn't have attacked her. Or it might have either way. Carson wasn't exactly sure whether or not it was trained or feral until she saw the letter attached to it's leg.

Watching the bird closely as she inched closer, Carson held her hand out to grab the letter and was startled by the bird - no, the _owl_- extending its leg to give her access to the rolled-up envelope tied to it. Carson all but snatched the letter from the bird and quickly retreated to the other side of her room as it gave what sounded like an indignant hoot. It puffed out its chest and seemed to be waiting for something. Carson stared at it dumbly, trying to figure out why there was an owl in her room in the first place and why it had been delivering her a letter. With a shake of her head she ignored the strange owl in favour for the letter she had accidentally crumpled in her clenched fist. After loosening the death grip she had on the piece of parchment - it was far too heavy to be regular paper - she read the address printed on the front and almost dropped the letter in shock. It was addressed to:

**Carson Rae Blaire **

**21 Chapel Road, London **

**Bedroom at the Top of the Stairs**

Carson entertained thoughts of stalkers until her hands shook and, even at the possibility that the letter was a threat of some sort, she couldn't resist her own curiosity and so flipped the letter over in the hopes that she would get some answers about the owl (which was now preening its glossy black feathers, arranging them back into some semblance of neatness. What a peculiar sight). The beautiful wax seal on the back of the letter distracted her. It depicted a shield of sorts split into four parts; the upper left corner held a ferocious looking lion with its jaws opened wide in a roar Carson could almost hear, the quarter of the shield next to it showed a eagle mid-flight with its talons extended and deadly, underneath the lion was a small badger holding its head up high and proud, and finally the bottom right corner housed a snake that was coiled looking ready to strike with its fangs extended. Carson ran her fingers over the seal appreciatively; it was the most detailed waxen seal she had ever seen and she was quick to fall in love with how much attention to detail the thing held.

With a shaky breath she slid her finger under the seal and gently pulled the letter open, careful not to damage the intricate seal in any way. From inside the envelope she pulled two pieces of parchment. As she read through the first one her eyes grew wider and wider until she was openly gaping at the letter as if it was the most astounding thing she had ever seen, which it technically was due to the fact that it read:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Blaire,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

In addition: Please note that, due to your status as a Muggleborn, a Professor shall be sent to collect yourself and your parents/guardians so as to purchase the items found on the enclosed list within a day of you receiving this letter.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Carson couldn't believe her eyes. She quickly opened the next piece of paper and found a list of items that needed to be purchased, as had been promised. The second piece of parchment said:

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of _WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY**

**UNIFORM**

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

**COURSE BOOKS**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells__ (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_

_by __Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory_

_by __Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by __Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by __Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by __Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by __Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by __Quentin Trimble_

**OTHER EQUIPMENT**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS**

**ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN ****BROOMSTICK**

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Shaking her head in disbelief she glanced back at the black owl, which sat on her bed. It stared back at her in something similar to expectancy and she scanned through the letter again to see if she had missed some kind of instructions on what to do with the _freaking owl sitting on her bed. _The words'we await your owl' jumped out at her as if she had summoned them.

"Oh" she said quietly "you want me to send back a confirmation of my attendance don't you?"

As if on cue the owl dipped its head as if it were nodding. Carson was surprised by its intelligence but chided herself after thinking that; it was just a bird, after all, and birds were not notorious for being overly intelligent. Yet this bird seemed to understand what she had said so she decided to try again. Padding lightly over to where the bird sat she nervously watched it as if it planned to repeat what had occurred between them little more than ten minutes prior.

"Ok, listen here. I'm not quite sure if you understand what I'm saying but I can't send a reply straight away. I have to show my parents this letter after all. Not to mention the fact that I'm not actually sure if this is real or some elaborate birthday prank. My father is quite good at those, you know? Although I would be awfully upset if this was but a joke..." She trailed off, suddenly feeling ridiculous for thinking that the bird would understand her. And then it bobbed its head twice and gave a soft coo. The sound made Carson smile and she imagined that the bird was trying to cheer her up, or encourage her. "You're welcome to stay here and wait; I highly doubt that this should take too long. I'll bring you something to eat after talking to my parents."

She gave the bird a gentle smile so as not to spook the animal and turned to leave. The sound of flapping wings filled the air and Carson was barely able to hold back a cry of surprise as something heavy landed on her shoulder. It took her half a second to realize that the owl had launched itself off her bed and was now snuggled contently against her slender neck, nibbling softly at her ear (which actually made her giggle, a fact which she would have denied vehemently if there had been anyone but her around to hear it. Carson was most definitely not the giggling type). Walking carefully so as not to jostle the tired owl - which was definitely falling asleep on her shoulder - she made her way downstairs with her 'Hogwarts' letter gripped tightly in her hand. She was certain that her eyes were the size of saucers as she finally made her way into the dining room. The strangeness of the situation had finally caught up with her and she fought down a groan of frustration. _Magic? Witches and wizards? Hogwarts? Seriously Carson, you're that gullible? _The owl perched on her shoulder chose that moment to give a soft hoot, making her remember that there was at least some evidence that the whole thing was real. The lady who had written the letter had also promised them a visit from a Professor within a day, so it all really depended upon whether or not they showed.

Realizing that her parents weren't in the dining room Carson wandered towards the Kitchen, her eyebrows tugged together when she realized that she couldn't smell breakfast cooking yet. A quick glance at her watch told her that it was 8am and her parents should have been awake an hour ago. She stuck her head around the kitchen door and it, too, was strangely empty. Her frown deepened, as did her unease. So far her eleventh birthday had been a spectacularly odd event. She had been awoken by an owl smashing through her window, had gotten beaten up by said owl after she had accidentally kicked it whilst under the impression that it was a murderer, had received a letter from an owl she had thought to be feral but which turned out to be a messenger bird (like the ones she had read about in various books!), had found out she was a Witch and was enrolled in a school called 'Hogwarts', and now her parents were completely M.I.A. All that and it was still only eight in the morning.

With a light snort that held no amusement Carson set about making herself a smoothie. Her parents had taught her how to cook at the age of five due to the fact that they both worked long hours and she was sometimes required to make herself breakfast or, more likely, dinner. She moved around the kitchen with ease, even as a fairly short (now) eleven year old she could work everything perfectly. She blended a handful of strawberries and blueberries with two bananas and some Greek yogurt. Once her 'Bananaberry' smoothie was done she poured it into a tall glass and wandered out of the kitchen (although, not before grabbing some sunflower seeds that she hoped the owl would enjoy).

"Mother..? Father..?" She called out hesitantly. The only reply she got was the sound of her voice echoing off the walls as she moved from room to room, each and every one being empty of her parents. Although she didn't want to admit to herself that her parents had forgotten her birthday their absence did explain why no one had rushed up to her room when she had started screaming that morning. With an angry sneer Carson turned away from her parents' empty bedroom and allowed herself the briefest stab of hurt before she shut herself off and walked back up to her room, she still had her smoothie in one hand and her letter in the other when someone knocked on their front door. Stopping her ascent to her bedroom she turned towards the rich chocolate colored wood of her front door, her expressionless eyes settling on the stained glass window which showed nothing but a faceless black smudge standing outside. She had often wondered why they had bothered installing the damn thing in the first place if it didn't even work as a spying device. The glass wasn't even pretty. It just made her slightly frustrated when she looked at it for too long and reminded her of the huge stained glass windows that most (if not all) churches donned. Another sharp rap at the door brought her out of her thoughts and made the niggling feeling of annoyance within her blossom into a full-blow, eyebrow-raised, pursed-lips, crossed-arms kind of irritation. She sucked her teeth to make a loud 'tsk' sound as she approached the door, eyes attentively watching the looming black-clad figure in the window.

Carson tugged the door open with a jerk and was pleased to note that the person before her jumped slightly at her sudden appearance. If their quickly lowering fist was anything to go by, they had been about to knock again when she had decided to make her grand entrance into this stranger's life. She took note of his greasy black hair, hooked nose, and sallow skin before deciding that this was an incredibly unattractive specimen of a person. She was not being intentionally cruel with this thought, she just mentally recommended he use some shampoo and conditioner one awhile and maybe get a little sunlight (although she was really one to talk on that front, she always chose visiting the library over running around outside like the other children her age, but at least she varied her routine by reading underneath trees and in parks). She met his black eyed glare with one of her own and as the two of them stood glaring at each other Carson couldn't help but realize that it had been a situation similar to this one that had gotten her a weeks worth of detention. She mentally berated herself for openly looking down on one much older than her and her glare faded to nothing but a stony glint in her eyes (one not-so-dissimilar to the look her mother got in her similar grey eyes when Carson had done something incredibly exasperating).

"Ms. Blaire, I presume." The man drawled. Though he had fashioned the question to sound more like a statement Carson wasn't so dim as to not realize that he was looking for confirmation of this fact.

"You presume correct. Who, may I ask, are you?" There was a familiar icy harshness to her voice as she spoke. This was the tone she saved specifically for all people who weren't her parents or who her parents weren't forcing her to be kind to (such as distant relatives at family gatherings that Carson would literally do anything to avoid). The sullen man raised a dark eyebrow and his scowl deepened as he took in how she stood defensively, grey eyes glittering with slight malice and a clear warning to _back off._

"My name is Professor Snape. I am the Potions Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry" The words, though comforting as they dispersed Carson's fear of being pranked, were said with a menacing sneer that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The owl - whom she had forgotten sat on her shoulder - gave a quiet hoot and snuggled down again, leaning heavily against Carson. The Potions Professor's eyebrows shot up as he seemingly noticed the bird for the first time. However, whether or not it was normal for owls to sleep on people like this in the Wizarding world, Professor Snape didn't comment on it and merely went back to his intimidation act. It wasn't working on Carson one bit and she had to suppress her sniggers at the frankly ridiculous display.

"Where are your parents or guardians? I will not be subjected to the company of a child any longer, much less one of your disrespect." He spoke the words as if they were meant to tear into her, to wound her or make her tear up as any child weaker than she would have. She simply met his gaze, eyes hardening at the thought of her parents who mysteriously vanished _on her birthday_ (they are probably at work, her brain supplied bitterly. The traitor.)

"Believe you me, I've been asking myself that question all morning. I have no clue as to the whereabouts of my parents who act less responsibly than me at times. They didn't so much as leave a note; although, if you have some of that 'hocus pocus' you could do to find them it would be greatly appreciated" She gestured in his general direction when referencing the 'hocus pocus' but otherwise stood with her arms crossed and her left eyebrow raised mockingly. Carson heard the greasy Potions Professor mutter something that sounded like 'ill mannered brat' under his breath before he swept inside her house, quite rudely if Carson was being honest. The thick black cloak that she had only just realized he was wearing billowed dramatically behind him as he walked with long strides. _What a drama queen, _she thought with a roll of her eyes.

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the entrance parlor and pulled what seemed to be a thin black stick from the folds of his robes. With a sharp warning for her to stay back, he twisted and flicked the stick and muttered a few choice words of complete gibberish. The whole thing was so ridiculous that Carson doubled over - and accidentally made the black owl hoot indignantly and fly off to find a more stable perch - and her whole body shook with silent laughter until her stomach ached and there were tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She slowly straightened up as she heard Snape's muttering stop and apart from her flushed cheeks, and occasional hiccup, she didn't let it show that she had just completely lost her composure.

"Your parents will be here in a moment. While I wait I shall have a cup of tea; black with two sugars, no milk. I trust you can manage such a simple task." Snape ordered her around as if he was more than just a visitor passing through and it annoyed Carson to no end, but she had also been taught by her mother to always cater to a guest's every need. And so, gritting her teeth, Carson gave a stiff nod. She didn't trust herself to speak without cursing the greasy Professor who had stormed into her house and was now treating it as his own, but she sent him a glacial glare that could make even the strongest of men tremble. And tremble he did, although if it weren't for the years of practice that Carson had of watching her father's every twitch as they held their secret conversations she would have missed it. It was the slight tremor passing through his fingers that gave him away and, feeling indefinitely better after making the snappish man feel the sharpness of her glare (for which she was famous within her grade at school, and most of the grades above) she walked off towards the kitchen to make the tea. Before she entered the room, however, she remembered that the Professor didn't know where to go.

"Lounge room is through there." She gestured lazily towards the large double doors leading off the left side of the parlor "The tea should be ready in five minute so please make yourself comfortable."

With those parting words Carson disappeared into the kitchen, missing the Professor's expression flicking with confusion at the unexpectedly thoughtful words. He would have been quite lost had it not been for her last minute instructions, and he found himself feeling grudgingly thankful towards the eleven year old who had snark to rival his own (for which he was famous throughout Hogwarts). As he made himself comfortable on the family's overly plush, cream colored sofa he quietly despaired over having to deal with such a rude _brat_ of a child for the next few years (possibly all seven of them if the child decided to take N.E.W.T potions, which Severus found himself sincerely hoping she would not).


End file.
